


Playing Fair

by Kitkat973



Category: The Avengers (2012)
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-10-11
Updated: 2012-10-11
Packaged: 2017-11-16 03:08:26
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 513
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/534812
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Kitkat973/pseuds/Kitkat973
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Bruce Banner is stupidly sexy.</p><p>This is known fact, yadda yadda, etc. etc., let me push my glasses down the bridge of my nose and look at you over them with a faintly amused, slightly chastising, mostly fond look while you try to fight off inappropriate wood. </p><p>Or maybe that's just him.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Playing Fair

**Author's Note:**

> For a prompt at Avengerkink: http://avengerkink.livejournal.com/11065.html?thread=24719673#t24719673

Bruce Banner is stupidly sexy.

This is known fact, yadda yadda, etc etc, let me push my glasses down the bridge of my nose and look at you over them with a faintly amused, slightly chastising, mostly fond look while you try to fight off inappropriate wood. 

Or maybe that's just him.

But still, Tony is- inured? Okay, not really. Not even close. But these days, the problem is usually when Bruce starts _talking_ , because Tony can deal with how hot his body is- hello, he's living in a tower with Steve Rogers' ass and Thor's six-pack and Hawkeye's arms- but his mind, that's another jerk-off fantasy entirely.

So in his defense, he's completely unprepared for a barefoot, sleepy-eyed Bruce padding into the kitchen.

Tony numbly watches the flex and pull of muscle in Bruce's tanned, hairy forearm as he pours the coffee, the bend of his wrist delicate and precise in a way that would've been strange if Tony hadn't seen it a thousand times before in his lab. His eyes travel up to strong biceps and a glimpse of collarbone- and okay, yeah, Bruce Banner is a cocktease. Definitely, definitely a cocktease.

Because if the peek-a-boo skin thing isn't enough (and Tony is very, very valiantly keeping his eyes from dipping down to appreciate the way those boxers fit and okay he's totally not because /damn/) Bruce is holding the coffee like it's sacred, his eyes heavy-lidded and dark as he takes a sip, Adam's apple bobbing and Tony really, really, really wants to bite his stubble-dark throat.

Just a little bit. A nip. Hell, he'd settle for a lick at this point. 

And that's not even counting Bruce's hair. Which Tony has been ignoring, because he's made it three months into Bruce Banner living with him and hasn't made a move namely because the guy still looks like he'll run off to India if someone so much as _breathes_ wrong, and if he looks at Bruce's mess of salt-and-pepper curls right now he's going to pounce. 

He's so focused on keeping his hands at his sides and /not/ in Bruce's hair that his mouth slips completely without his permission. "You have no fucking idea how much I want to blow you right now."

Which, possibly better than grabby-hands, but not by much.

Bruce just quirks a brow up then sets his coffee cup down, neat and precise. "Is that so?"

"Maybe. Possibly," Tony answers, then- "Okay, yes."

There's a hint of the smile that Tony has spent three months and a million dollars (because Bruce won't accept a $500 pair of pants but he'll say a quiet thank-you when Tony donates a thousand times that to Doctors Without Borders and just shake his head in disbelief when Tony presents him with a mass spectrometer and it's possibly one of his favorite things about Bruce) coaxing out. "Far be it from me to keep you from what you want," Bruce says.

Tony takes all of a second to process that before he's getting down on his knees.

Shared kitchens? Officially awesome.


End file.
